Family stories and research stories that tell the tale of my personal research. If you have a similar family line or want to know more. Please contact me!

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Watch Out!!!

I was quite disgusted when I was in junior high to find
surprises in many of the drinking fountains around the school. Those in my age group probably saw the same
thing – it was not pleasant, in fact it was gross. In just about every drinking fountain, some
junior high boy must have thought it was cool to spit their chew of tobacco
into the drinking fountains making it pretty well unusable until it was cleaned. I remember coming home from school and
complaining about this disgusting habit to my parents. They agreed that it was pretty bad…but as
they told me, there are worse things.

My mother didn’t remember her grandfather terribly
well. He died when she was four years
old. She did remember visiting at his
house not too long before he passed away.
He sat in his chair across the room and would spit his tobacco to the spittoon
across the room. My mother understood
that this was not something that she wanted to get hit with. It didn’t sound very good and she was pretty
suspicious of the smell. So, she sat in
wait – trying to time her run across the room to miss it. She stopped and started a few times and then
decided to make her dash. She took only
a few steps when she felt the unmistakable spat on her face. I can’t say that he did it on purpose…although
it wouldn’t surprise me. It really is
too bad that the only memory my mother really has of her grandfather was
getting between him and his spittoon.

My father lived near his grandparents when he was young and
there were many rides to town on the back of the truck with his uncles. My great grandfather wasn’t a good
driver. He had to learn to drive a car
by trial and error. Granddad grew up
riding and driving horses…I’m not sure who taught him how to drive. To be honest…if the pupil is the example of
the teacher – the teacher was not sufficiently qualified. So, Dad and his uncles would be riding in the
back of the truck holding on for dear life as Granddad didn’t believe in taking
the trip slowly. There were lessons
taught in the back of that truck. The
most important one was to pay attention to the motor. If Granddad was shifting, then it was time to
duck behind the cab of the truck. When
he shifted, he would let “it” fly. If
you weren’t behind the cab…you would get a rude surprise.

Dad told me though that his mother got back at of the
neighbors. My grandmother had a thing
about cleaning windows…and while the men were talking and she was trying to
find something to do…she decided to clean the old neighbor’s truck
windows. So she rolled them up and
cleaned them so they were crystal clear.
They were so clear that when the neighbor started down the road, shifted
and then spit out his tobacco…he found that the window was closed and had an
unexpected blowback.

Occasionally, I still see the remnants of this disgusting
habit in unexpected places. It isn’t as
common as it was in my youth. However, I
must admit that I have never experienced getting hit in the face as a little
kid or having to worry about ducking behind the truck cab to avoid an
unpleasant surprise. I have to admit
that after hearing my parent’s stories of their experiences…the exclamation “Watch
out!!!” takes on a more significant meaning.